Breath of Life
by voldybadass
Summary: [AU] He has to know where her loyalty lays. She has to find someone to be loyal to. Who is going to win this game of thrones?
1. The Pact

_London, 1598 (XVI)_

"Wake up, girl. I am very busy, and so is Mr. Dumbledore."

Umbridge, the Castle's housekeeper, started to open the curtains in her bedroom. The room was a large, richly decorated one. There were famous paintings hanging on the rock walls, intricate tapestry covering every inch of the cold floor, and expensive furniture made of the best wood in the kingdom. Just the best for the King.

The bright light of the sun reached the sleepy girl laying in the wide bed and hurt her eyes as the other left the room closing the door heavily, mumbling about how the girl should be under her boots.

Hermione didn't mind to be awakened like this every day, as long as she had a warm bed to sleep in and food on her plate. She knew to be glad and considered herself lucky. Most people like her were dying out on the streets from cold and starvation.

She pushed the silk sheet aside, leaving the bed and going straight away to her cabinet to look for something to wear. Looking at her clothing doubly, she tried to remember how the world used to be like before Grindelwald took power. She was only 4 years old then, but she had already shown traces of her magical ability. But something that was supposed to be a beautiful gift soon turned into something to be afraid of and hidden from other people.

_Mud should be under the Pure's boots._

Made up by Grindewald himself, the saying was what lead the kingdom these days, where being a Pureblood meant you were free and rich, and being a muggleborn meant you were dirty and worthless.

Hermione decided for a red plain dress, beautiful but hardly dressy. She tried to remember the moment when she was picked up from the ashes of her childhood home, which was all that was left after it burned down causing her parents death. She survived thanks to her magic, which somehow created a protective bubble around her. She was 5 years old.

Albus Dumbledore, the brilliant wizard who had saved her, turned her into his apprentice even after Grindelwald had said she should be dead. Fourteen years had passed by since then, but the King still hated her.

Hermione looked herself in the golden mirror that was inside her cabinet, as she pressed her vine wand tightly against her chest. Magic had been the only thing that made her happy as long as she could remember. Learning about it was one of her hobbies… Well, actually was the only hobby she had. Living in the Castle of the King, there wasn't free time to be spent with silly things such as hobbies if you were a simple Mudblood like her.

She left her room, locking the door carefully before walking down the corridors lost in her thoughts.

As her own bedroom, the rest of the King's Castle was too beautifully decorated. Huge windows would leave the light of the sun invade the place, and make the armors shine as it touched them. Important wizards and witches would give you advice as you walked by their frames. And not a single step would be given without something magical and impressive happening to you (as Peeves, the Poltergeist would always assure).

Hemione finally reached Dumbledore's room. He asked her to be there earlier, because he wanted to teach her a "new and very difficult spell, indeed". She knocked the door with more enthusiasm than she intended to, making the loud noise echo through the stone walls of the Castle.

Soon enough, Dumbledore's smiling face opened the door.

"Hello Hermione. I thought it was you, knocking this way. Come in, please. This is going to be a great class."

Hermione entered the old man's room, blushing slightly in embarrassment. She didn't mean to let Dumbledore know how excited she was for the class. With avid eyes, she looked around the rounded place for anything different from normal, but everything was still the same with his magical experiments and machines taking every desk and making their familiar noises.

"Please, do take a seat. You have already had breakfast, I assume? It is, after all, one of the most important meals of the day"

"Yes sir, I have had it already," she lied. The truth was that she overslept and had had no time to go to the kitchens and eat, but there was no need to let Dumbledore know that. She sat in a leather chair and Dumbledore took the sit next to hers.

"I see you're quiet today." he commented, looking amused. "Are there no questions about anything you've read?"

Remembering suddenly about something, Hermione twitched in her chair in order to face the other man fully.

"Oh yes, professor! I've read about a new found love potion, called Amortentia! Apparently, it has different smells to each person however…Well…" Her voice started to die. "We can leave those to another day, sir."

"Are you sure?" he asked, with a smile playing in the corners of his mouth. "I have many things to teach you today, however I can easily take some time to explain to you why Amortentia has the effects it has…" he completed, tilting his head and looking above his half-moon glasses.

"No." Her voice was nothing but firm. "It can wait, professor."

Dumbledore softly chuckled whilst he jumped to his feet, bringing his hands together and making a clapping sound.

"Yes Hermione, I must say I'm as excited as you are! Come here next to me. Yes, here. Now, can you read this page out loud?"

"Patronus Charm" Hermione started, furrowing her eyebrows. "It is used to create a shield against dementors, which are one of the foulest creatures to inhabit the world. It has the capacity to feed off the happiness of one's body, and even consume their soul.

"The Patronus Charm is a very powerful one, therefore is very hard to cast. It's necessary to choose the happiest memory the witch or wizard has, and then says the words _Expecto Patronum_. It's said that the memory itself takes form, and the dementor feeds in its light instead of the witch or wizard's body. The strongest Patronus can take form of an animal meaningful to the caster."

Hermione's voice died away and the silence grew in the room. She looked to Dumbledore's face with wide eyes and asked, "Is it what I am going to learn, sir? The Patronus Charm?"

He agreed, and she opened a wide smile. She's been expecting to learn that particular spell for so long, that she hardly could believe the time has finally arrived.

"Well, I think we should start now, shall we?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well" continued Dumbledore "As you've read, first of all you have to think about your happiest memory-"

"But what about the Dementor, professor? You didn't take a real one here, did you?" she interrupted, with suspicious eyes searching the room, expecting to see the aforementioned creature jumping out from any corner now.

"I… No. Not a real one. Even thought it would surely be interesting, would it not?" replied Dumbledore, laughing lightly. He was the only person in the entire world who'd find _interesting_ to fight against a real dementor. "You have nothing to worry about the Dementor, my dear. I know exactly what to do, and it will not be dangerous to any of us. Now, back to the memory… You must choose one very carefully, because a weak memory can cause the death of the witch or wizard if they are faced with a real Dementor." His bright blue eyes watched her as if they could see right through her soul. Sometimes she thought they could.

Sighing heavily, she thought.

What was her happiest memory? It was a hard question. She could choose something related to her parents, if she at least remembered them, which she didn't. She could choose the first time Dumbledore had taught her magic, but Grindelwald had beaten her for it afterwards so it wasn't the best memory she had.

However, there was the night when her wand had chosen her. She had been so happy about having her own wand, that even when the King almost expulsed her from the Castle he wasn't able to take away her happiness because now she wasn't only a weak and poor mudblood. She had a wand which she neither had stolen nor borrowed; the wand had _chosen_ her. It had meant she was a truly witch, and that all the things everyone always said to her weren't true at all. She wasn't dirty, or weak, or unworthy. She was a _witch_.

"I've got it." she said to Dumbledore, softly. Looking into her eyes, Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, I believe you have. Now, I ask you to move back a little bit. Yes, right there is very good. You see, Ms. Granger, I once had the opportunity to capture a dementor."

Hermione stared at him in shock. She knew that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in their time, but to capture a dementor was something impossible. No one had ever managed to do such thing.

"I see you're surprised, as you should be!" said Dumbledore. "It was surprising to me as well and I was the one who got it! Well, I won't full you with the details, all you have to know is that I've been working on it, and now he's weaker than a normal dementor, so it's not as dangerous as it was previously. However I must warn you, it's not inoffensive. Are you truly ready to do this, Hermione?" he said, looking at her above his glasses.

She thought seriously about the question. Was she ready to do it? She was going to face one of the worst creatures on Earth, and all she had to defend herself was an old memory that she assumed was happy. However, she had to remember that she was being taught by Dumbledore, the best wizard of the time. She had to remember that she was an exceptional witch, who had never found a spell she could not learn. Suddenly feeling brave, she said, "Yes, I am."

With a reassuring smile, Dumbledore walked to an iron door at the bottom of the room, and opened it. She prepared herself. And the Dementor came.

* * *

"Oh, Tom, what a brilliant mind you have!" Bellatrix Lestrange exclaimed, grabbing his arm as if her life depended on it. Tom smiled politely to his fiancée, before untangling himself from her.

He had made an absolutely ordinary comment about the dangers of the new-found Amortentia potion, however Bellatrix acted like it was the most intelligent thing she'd ever heard. Pathetic. If the woman weren't so rich and her blood so pure, it would never cross his mind to marry her. However, Tom was in an age where it didn't dwell for a proper man to be single. And he needed money to achieve his plans. Bellatrix Lestrange and her odd obsession with him just made things easier. He could treat her in whatever way he wanted and she'd always come back willing for more. A perfect relationship!

"Sadly, Ms. Lestrange, I must go now. The King and I have some business to take care of. However, m'lady, I shall come back to you as soon as possible." Bellatrix blushed profusely, and giggled at him.

"Oh, I will wait for you to come back then, Lord Riddle. Now, now, I won't monopolize you. The King doesn't like to be kept waiting. Go, my love." She kissed him in the cheek, and he felt the urge to crucio her. How _dare_ she touch him? Still he contained himself, simply smiling at her coldly and leaving her company as soon as possible.

While walking through the illuminated Castle's corridor, and avoiding Peeves at least three times, Tom left his mind wonder, a pleasure he didn't grant himself very often.

He was always surrounded by people such as slaves, artists, philosophers, purebloods… However, there was a feeling that never faded away: he couldn't find his place in the world, nor someone who fully understood him. Tom Riddle had a brilliant mind, he knew it and everyone else knew it as well. He hardly had stimulating conversations, and when he did it was with Dumbledore, and the old man hatred him. Besides him, there was no one else who could match his mind and fully understand his thoughts, and it bored Tom. He had followers, but no friends or people he admired. He thought he'd find his mates within the Pureblood's world, his for birth right, however he didn't. He was as alone as he always had been. However, he knew why such feelings of loneliness were always with him, and he would change it when the right time arrived.

Tom finally arrived at the King's room. Sighing briefly, he knocked on the heavy wood door.

"Oh, Tom, ma'boy. Please, come in. I've been waiting for you for so long I thought you would not come anymore!" said Grindelwald, enthusiastic. The King obviously liked Tom, though it was a one-sided feeling, since Tom despised the other. Grindelwald was weak, too caring, and a little blind when it came to choosing trustworthy people. Tom could easily kill the King at any time if he wanted.

He entered the room smiling like there was no better place to be right there and then, than in the King's companion.

Grindelwald was wearing a very unusual combination of clothing. Bright red pants were matching with a white shirt, and green silk robes completed the outfit. Tom, who often choose to wear dark suits and robes, asked himself who let the King walk around like this.

"I'm sorry I was late your Highness, Ms. Lestrange kept me with her for longer than I intended. Hope you didn't mind."

"Of course not, of course not. It's understandable you want to spend more time with a lovely woman than with this old man here." Grindelwald laughed out loud, and Tom followed him. If only the King knew that Bellatrix was everything but lovely.

"Well, I called you here for a reason, Tom. I want you to do a little favor for me." He said, walking to the door once again to make sure it was closed properly, so no one could over hear what he was about to say.

Tom, who was sitting in the opposite side, raised an eyebrow. He was already full of paintings to do. The whole Kingdom requested for his paintings, and since he never refused anything, he had a long list of commissions to work on. However, if the King wanted something, he'd have to take care of it.

"You mean a panting, sir? I thought you had said you didn't want any new ones at least until the end of the year…"

"No, I do not want a panting, though I must add that I've seen the last one you made, and it's astonishing!" he chuckled again. "I want to ask you something more serious. It's about a certain lady who is giving me a little bit of… trouble."

Tom, for the first time, could not imagine what the other was going to ask him. As far as he knew, Grindelwald agreed with his marriage with Bellatrix, so the "certain lady" could not be her. And it was a known fact that Grindelwald did not look for a Queen, so it wasn't a problem with seducing a lady as well. So who was this woman, and how was she causing trouble to the King?

"Well, sir, I'm here to help you. Whatever you want me to do, I shall do."

"This is why I like you so, Tom!" Grindelwald said with a bright smile, sitting next to him and tapping Tom's back lightly. "See, I need you to follow a lady. Actually, call her lady is, to me, profaning the very sense of the word, however, this is how the world would call her…" he said, his voice dying in the end while he shacked his head slightly. "She's Dumbledore's apprentice, a mudblood girl!"

Tom didn't have to hear the rest. He himself had never liked that mudblood very much. A shame to the wizarding world living in the Castle, like one of them, wasn't right. Even worse, she was being versed in magic by Dumbledore himself. However, Tom never did anything against the girl, mostly because she took the care to not cross his way. _Well_, Tom thought with a grin, _she must be a smart girl_.

"- think she must be plotting against me, Tom, and that's why I want you to follow her and see where her loyalty lays. Would you do it?"

"Yes, I would, sir. I would find a great pleasure in helping the Kingdom to end all its traitors. You can count on me, your Highness." Tom said, softly, and Grindelwald smiled.

"I knew I could trust you, smart boy. One day, Lord Riddle will be a name as important as mine."

"I hope so, sir." He replied with a smile, although he didn't agree with the King. Tom wasn't going be as great as the king. He'd be greater. And soon.

* * *

"I think that is all for today, Hermione. It was quite an impressive class, wasn't it?" Dumbledore said, looking proudly at Hermione. She smiled and nodded.

The girl had managed to defeat the dementor on her first try, surprising even herself. She'd defeated it three times more afterwards with no problems. The only thing that troubled her was the fact that her patronus hadn't taken any form yet. Well, she'd have a lot of time to accomplish it; all she needed was patience and practice.

"It was the best lesson I've ever had, professor. Thank you." Hermione said, the smile never leaving her face.

"You're welcome, miss. I must say you always light up my day with your desire to learn. The world needs more young people like you. You are, truly, the brightest witch of your age." Hermione thanked him once more, this time blinking away tears. She couldn't believe Dumbledore had just said she was bright. It was the best compliment she'd ever received.

"I s-shall go. You surely have things to work on, Professor. I know I do." She said, laughing while cleaning up her eyes quietly. Saying good bye and thanking him profusely, she left the room.

Deciding she could use a breakfast now, she walked down to the kitchens, passing her class over again in her mind.

_The happiest memory you can remember._

She walked along the large and dark corridor. The torches were oddly extinguished. Maybe the wind was the one to blame. Maybe Peeves. Probably Peeves.

_Let the memory fill you._

She turned left by the Founders Paintings by T.M.R. She could hear Hufflepuff singing and Slytherin and Gryffindor in an arguing.

_Shake the wand lightly twice._

She kept walking and turned right in the first entrance.

_Say the incantation: Expectum Patronum._

She ran into something warm and soft that wasn't supposed to be there.

"Well, if it isn't the most lovely mudblood in the entire Kingdom!" said a baritone voice. A voice, she knew, that belonged to Tom Riddle.

The boy was the worst type of pureblood she knew. Always willing to please the King and believing in those stupid theories about how muggleborns had less brain activity than Purebloods, Tom Riddle was the epitome of everything that was wrong in the kingdom. However she couldn't say it to him. What a pity, thought. She would love to see his face when she started to point out all his flaws instead of licking his boots like the entire world seemed to do.

"I'm sorry, Lord Riddle." She said, avoiding his eyes. "I should have seen you there, my Lord. It was my fault."

"Of course it was! No one is saying otherwise." He said, and she could hear to the amusement in his tone.

"Yes, you are right, sir. I'm sorry. Excuse me, my Lord, I must go." She tried to leave the place as fast as she could, but he grabbed her arm tightly and turned her to face him once again.

"Unfortunately, I cannot do that, Ms… Granger, am I wrong?"

"No, I am Ms. Granger." She answered in a weak, low voice, yet not meeting his eyes. Oh, if only she could hex him! However, if she tried that, she'd be dead in a heartbeat. She knew Riddle's fame.

"You know, Ms. Granger, I do not like it when people talk to me without looking at my eyes. I think it's disrespectful, don't you agree?"

He kept grabbing her arm tightly. Sighing heavily and looking directly at his eyes, she said:

"I'm sorry, Lord Riddle. You're right, as always."

_He has nice eye_s, she thought. Grey, deep, and smart eyes. Looking inside them, she felt an odd sensation, as like cold water was running through her head down to her spine. She knew what he was doing, and understood the reason to why he wanted her to look into his eyes. He was a legillimens.

Of course that living in a place full of dark wizards, Hermione learned really fast that if you want to keep your mind to yourself you have to know Occlumency, or else everyone will know even your deepest thoughts. She closed her mind quickly as the realization finally crept upon her, and immediately a frown appeared between Tom's eyebrows as he finally let go of her arm, now bruised.

"I see you are an intelligent witch, miss. I must prize you. There aren't many Mudbloods who have learned the old art of Occlumency."

Hermione's heart was beating in an unhealthy speech, and she felt dizzy. Of course there weren't many muggleborns who knew Occlumency. They were either dead or dying, they had no time for mystical incantations.

"Well, sir" She started, looking over her shoulder. She noticed Dumbledore was in his way to them, and felt a wave of relief wash over her. "I must be special, then."

She could not believe she had just said that, though the look on Tom's face couldn't let her think otherwise. His mouth, where a mocking smile had been playing when she looked up to him, now had fallen slightly open. His nice eyes didn't leave her face, seeming intrigued instead of arrogant as they were before. He stepped closer to her when Dumbledore finally reached them.

"I suppose I'm not interrupting anything here, am I?" the old man said smiling, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"No, professor. Lord Riddle and I had just run into each other." Hermione said immediately, trying to compensate the remark she had just did to the young man.

She looked briefly at Tom, who seemed annoyed and disappointed for a moment, but quickly recomposed his face, and it was taken by a warm smile, making Hermione doubt if she had really seen the first expression.

"Yes, it's true. I was just apologizing to Ms. Granger, wasn't I?" he said, mirroring Hermione, who simply shook her head. "Well," he continued "I have some paintings to work on right now. So, if you excuse me, I shall leave your delightful company." He said that with such conviction and politeness, that one could think he was a perfect gentleman. Dumbledore, thought, didn't seem to buy his act.

"You surely do. Please, go, Riddle. We don't want to keep you for longer. Ms. Granger has no objections against it, have you, dear?"

"No, please. I shall not keep you here longer, my Lord." She agreed, her voice sounding hoarse even to her ears. Tom smirked at her and, bowing down slightly, turned his back on them and walked away.

"Is everything really alright, Hermione?"

She looked to Dumbledore and considered telling him everything about what had just happened between her and Riddle, but she discarded the idea. Dumbledore had already many things to worry about without her own problems.

"No, professor. Lord Riddle had been just the same terrible person as ever, nothing out of the normal." Except for grabbing my arm and trying to read my mind, she completed to herself.

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes measured her for a split second, like he knew she was hiding something. However, just as fast he looked away and said, "Well then, I must go too. Go straight away to your room, will you? I don't believe in that boy Tom Riddle, and nor should you."

"I will. Thanks for helping me, professor." She said, already turning to go to her dorms. Almost in the end of the corridor, she heard Dumbledore's voice again.

"Don't you let him in, Hermione."

She turned around, however didn't find anyone there anymore. She took her way again, thinking about who she shouldn't let in.

* * *

.

Oh, I took long to post this right. First, I'd like to thanks Sofia who beta-ed it to me, correct my poor english and gave me some great advices (yes sweetie, I listened to them, and I've changed a bit here already, and I'll take care of the next chapters about those things :3)

Ah, yes, since I've changed somethings here thanks to Sofi advices, there must be some mistakes that she could not correct, so forgive me ç.ç

I hope you enjoy etc. And I hope I don't abandon this fanfic, as is usual to me

So, yeah. Review, tell me what you think about the story and such :D


	2. The Incident

Blimey, I took long but finally the second chapter is up! Firstly, I'd like to thank you all for your wonderful messages, you're great! To Dark Eternity (the private answer is disable D:), I can totally see what you did there, and I'm working on the ooc-ness thing, I promix. To the anonymous, I understand your point, and I'll try to take more care of the misspelings from now on (you can warn me of special misspelings that bother you most and that I keep repeting, if you may).

Also, I'd like to thanks Madison specially, for betaing this chapter. You are the best, as I already said a thousand times now haha.

Read, enjoy, and review!

**Disclaimer**: None of these characters are mine (thought I wish).

* * *

Hermione was heading to the kitchens. She knew she was supposed to be in her bedroom, as ordered by Dumbledore, but she'd been awake for more than three hours now, and she was starving. Also, she was very aware of what happened if she worked all day long without properly eating; she would pass-out, the King would think she was being lazy, and she'd be punished severely. Better prevent it.

She reached the end of a long corridor surrounded by torches. On the wall before her, there was nothing but a chipped painting of a bowl of fruits. One would hardly believe that to enter the kitchens the only thing she'd have to do was to tickle a pear on it. But that was, indeed, what Hermione did and while the pear laughed it turned into a green door-knob. As if someone was waiting for her, the door opened immediately to reveal a very small, thin creature wearing a piece of what seemed to be an old sheet.

"Hello, Ms. Granger! We've been waiting for you! Enter, enter…" said the house elf, grabbing her hand with long fingers and pulling her inside.

The kitchen was a very large, circular room that was always a little bit hotter than considered comfortable. It had some tables placed around the central fireplace from where a great part of the light came, but the room's space was taken up mostly by house elves working at the several stone stoves.

She'd barely caught her balance once again, when at least ten more elves appeared at her side and made her sit by one of the dark, wooden tables. They would not stop talking and moving while they handed her every kind of food that existed. Soon, Hermione had eaten so much she was not sure she'd have to feed ever again in her life.

"No, thank you, Winky, I don't want anything more." She said to one of them that was standing at her left and that kept offering her a piece of cake.

"But Miss needs to eat! Miss is so weak. This is no good, Winky knows. Winky has seen people dying because of weakness!" said the house elf with a high pitched voice while placing the cake in front of Hermione and looking at the girl tentatively.

Hermione sighed but gave in, slowly taking the cake to her mouth. She didn't want to worry Winky nor any of the other house elves. God knew the poor creatures had enough to worry about already.

If mudbloods were considered the lowest social status that one could get, house elves were not even considered a status at all. They were treated like a _thing_ by everyone. A thing that you could inherit, and would clean for you, feed you, obey you, and die for you. Compared to them, Hermione was treated wonderfully, and that was saying something.

"How are things down here, Winky?" Hermione asked kindly, after she finally ate the piece of cake.

The elf squeaked and didn't meet Hermione's eyes as she spoke, cleaning her hands in her already dirty sheet she said,

"Oh, things are good, Miss. Very, very good. Everything is normal. Great."

"Things are not good, Winky! You should not lie…" another angry voice, this time at the girl's right spoke. That particular house elf was not wearing anything similar to the others. Instead, he looked like he had tried to use all the clothes he owned at once. There was a colorful hat at his big head, a pair of gloves on his hands, a knee-length sweater, and at least five pairs of socks on his feet. Hermione did not know whether to cry or laugh.

"Dobby! How are you?" The girl asked, bowing down and hugging the tiny creature tightly. Dobby was the only free elf of the entire Castle (and, Hermione suspected, of the entire Kingdom as well). The house elf had belonged previously to the Malfoys, a very rich family of trades people. However, thanks to a distraction of Lucius Malfoy and to a very brave Harry Potter, Dobby was set free and, later, hired to work at the Castle.

"Dobby is good, Ms. Granger. How are you, Miss? And my friend, Harry Potter?" Hermione laughed slightly. Of course, after Harry had saved him, Dobby felt like he was forever in debt to him.

"I'm fine, Dobby, thank you." Hermione said, sitting straight again. "And so is Harry, of course." She completed quickly, smiling. "But what did you mean with 'things are not good'?" Inquired her, furrowing her eyebrows. He stood on the chair next to hers in order to reach the same stature as the girl's and looked straight into her eyes.

"Many people have been walking in the Castle during the night, Miss." He said in a low voice, his hands grasping each other anxiously. "We can hear from here. People walking and whispering the whole night. And then, yesterday, Mr. Dumbledore came here himself! Winky had told the King about the whispering," Dobby said, turning to Winky and looking at her reproachfully, "and the King was really angry. He beat her!" He completed with a shiver, his voice lowering while he looked around as if expecting Grindelwald to show up at any second. "Dobby had to heal her. That's when Dumbledore came, and he asked her not to tell anyone about the whisperings anymore." Concluded Dobby, while stuffing his chest proudly and looking over at Hermione. "Dobby, of course, would never say anything."

All the other house elves had faded quite and were looking at Dobby. Some of them seemed suspicious, but the majority of them were just really curious.

"What did Grindelwald do after this?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence, standing up and walking back and forth in front of the fireplace nervously waiting for the elf's answer. Could it have something to do with the odd behavior of Lord Riddle earlier? Could Grindelwald think she was the one responsible for the 'whispering' problem, as Dobby said?

"I don't know Miss. After he hurt Winky he called Dobby to pick her up and bring Winky back here." He answered, finally sitting down on the chair and observing the girl with wide, blue eyes.

Hermione stopped her pacing and eyed the fireplace, crossing her arms tightly. She was sure the incident with Winky and her own incident of earlier that morning were connected. She knew it.

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle was a very busy man. The most required painter of the Kingdom, and also a researcher of magical artifacts when he could manage to find a break in between his paintings. He, hence, had no time to spend at the wide, well illuminated royal garden, chatting with the gardener as if he had no better place to be. However, it was exactly what he was doing in that morning.

"It's a beautiful specimen of a Midnight Fear you have gotten here, Miss." said Tom, lowering himself and lightly touching the petals of a black, wonderful flower that was lying on the top of a bush on the ground. He was right in the middle of what could have been a labyrinth made exclusively of plants. There were some fountains with intricate patterns here and there, along with very realistic sculptures of angels, animals and, though more rarely, some of the King himself. At his back, a white seat was hidden in the wild, forgotten.

"Isn't it, Lord? This is one of my favorite flowers, actually. I'm quite proud of it. It's beautiful, and the magic properties are very unique, too," said the elder woman at her knees, close to said flowers, pruning.

"It can make a person paranoid, if I recall correctly." Tom replied, straightening himself and looking expectantly at her, as if she could correct him at any moment.

"Yes, that's exactly it!" She said, looking briefly up at him and then turning her attention back to her work, "You're a very clever boy, Lord Riddle. Not many wizards would know about it…" Tom smiled warmly, trying to suppress the rage that bowled up inside him at being called a boy.

"Thank you, Miss Sprout." He said happily. "Oh, and is it true? That it can also be used in the new found Amortentia Potion? I just don't quite understand how," he commented, wide-eyed. Of course he knew it could. He also understood _how_ he could use it, obviously, but he had to gain Sprout's trust by making her feel like she was actually teaching him something, like she actually mattered. Tom felt the urge to roll his eyes.

She seemed surprised at first, snapping her head up to see Tom's expression, using her hand to block the sun.

"I'm astonished, Lord! If not many wizards would know about the direct magical properties of this plant, even less would know about the use of it to brew a love potion." She said, standing up next to him. She looked down to the flowers, one hand on her back. "It's true, it can be used it to brew Amortentia. Ironically, the addition of a petal of this single beauty can make exactly the opposite of what it'd do if used in the Paranoia Potion. It makes the person who drinks it not be paranoid at all." She took a handkerchief from inside her robes and used it to clean her face. "The person who drinks Amortentia falls deeply in love, or more like an obsession, for real love cannot be created by using magic, as you're probably aware. The addiction of the Midnight Fear, though, makes the person thinks there's nothing wrong with their sudden passion for someone they held no further interest in beforehand." She completed, pocketing the handkerchief again.

"It's terrible… One taking another's free will, I mean. Of course, many wizards are talking about the dangers of this potion, and how it's not right to control another wizard or witch's fate. But no one cares about controlling the fate of those poor mugl-" Tom stopped himself, his mouth shut in a thin line as he shot a worried glance in Sprout's direction. Of course, he knew all along that the elder woman was sympathetic to the Muggle's-rights cause, since she was the one whom he often caught glimpses of in the middle of the night, sharing food between the filthy muggles that appeared by then. They were all pathetic, as was Sprout's attempt to help them. However, Tom could not let the gardener know his true feelings, for he needed to gather information from her. Information about a certain mudblood to whom, Tom knew, the other woman was well acquainted with.

"Oh, deary, there's no need to hide your true feelings!" Sprout said, excitedly, her tiny dark eyes looking around them carefully, trying to prevent from being overheard. "I share your opinions, as most people that work in the Castle do." She was smiling broadly as she touched his left arm in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. Tom smiled back at her, and sighed, relieved.

"Oh, God, for a moment I thought I-" He didn't end, instead took his hand to rest above his heart. "I'm glad that I'm not the only one with this opinion, then." He completed, his face serious while he leaned forward to the other woman, his voice nothing but a whisper.

"No, dear God, we are plenty!" Sprout answered, her eyes as wide as they could go. "If only you knew… Most of us that work for the King had muggle-born friends and even muggle friends. Until the Betrayal, I mean," her voice faded away, while she looked to the sky above their head blindly.

"I had thought that the only person who'd understand my feelings would be, why, Ms. Granger, of course." Tom finally reached the point that was crucial to all their conversation. The girl. "Since she is a muggle-born herself, I assumed she'd be the only one in the Castle that I could freely speak with, without fearing being judged or hushed. However, I've never gathered enough courage," he mumbled, avoiding Sprout's eyes and watching his feet instead, putting his hands inside his pockets forcefully.

"Well, yes, Hermione is a muggle-born and she's obviously very keen of the Muggle's-rights. You should talk to her, really." Sprout's voice was animated, and Tom saw the way she moved from one foot to another. "Such an intelligent girl, always knew a lot about many things. You'd not be disappointed. Hermione is the brightest witch of her age, you see, so if you want to hold thoughtful and meaningful conversations about politics or even magical theory, she's the right girl." Sprout was clearly selling off the mudblood. What was she expecting? Tom to end up married to someone with dirty blood? He almost snorted.

"Indeed?" He said, politely, eyeing the elder woman. "She does have an air of- how can I word- specialness about her. But the King is always _there_ when she's near, so I don't think I will ever have an opportunity to actually meet her properly." Tom sighed again, his shoulders down.

"That is not a real issue, dear," replied Sprout, placing a hand gently on his upper arm. Why did she keep touching him? How unnerving. "See, Hermione has a very busy schedule of work, and the King won't keep a track on her whereabouts all day while she's on it. If you may, I can give you her schedule. I don't think she will mind it at all. She's very understanding, Hermione." She completed, drawing her hand back.

"Oh, that would be amazing!" Tom said, his voice truly happy for once.

He had gotten the mudblood.


	3. The Feast

_**Disclaimer**: Nothing here is mine._

* * *

The kitchen's large garden was filled with the most varying and exotic ingredients known to mankind. Hermione was here, harvesting onions to sell at the market when she heard it. A couple shouts of "Hey!" and "Faster!" and "Hurry up!" and some other words a lady was not supposed to repeat, and she knew what was coming.

As soon as she straightened up and looked over her shoulder, she saw a bunch of men walking down the stairs that led to the Castle. They were all richly dressed with green and silver robes, and their wands lay in their hands as if they were about to face a terrible enemy. It was, of course, the King's Royal Army, and they seemed to be walking directly to where a very red-faced Hermione still stood, an onion forgotten in her hand.

The members of the group were not to be fooled, since they were great duelers. Grindelwald himself enjoyed to travel around the Kingdom hunting down exceptional wizards to acquire them for his "Special Little Thing", as he tenderly calls it. Most of them would feel honored to be invited to such a great army. The ones that did not, faced a hard time in the Castle dungeons, and soon they would become honored to enter the Army as well. Hermione waved to someone in the crowd that belonged to the latter case.

A skinny boy with bright green eyes and untamed black hair waved back to her. Slipping away from the others, he walked quickly to the spot where Hermione was waiting. Harry Potter, as was the boy's name, reached her breathless.

"Hello, Hermione. May I ask what are you doing? I bet you're enjoying this beautiful sunny day we were graced with today." said him, smiling at her while he flicked his hair out of his eyes just to have it fall again.

"And you are probably hanging out with some of your friends right now. Up to the Quidditch Arena, aren't you?" replied her, and they both grinned. Truth was, neither of them had any choice in whether they would be there enjoying the sun or not. Harry, like Hermione, had to follow orders without questioning (both from the King himself and from Slughorn, first Captain of the Army). Harry's story, however, was slightly different from Hermione's.

He had lived in a land very far away from the Castle, a place where Grindelwald's philosophy did not have so much strength as it did in the nearby communities, which meant the boy's family lived without witnessing prejudice or pain. Harry often told Hermione about how muggle-borns would walk around the streets in Godric Hollow calmly, and how people would talk with them just as kindly as with anyone else. Harry himself was a child from a muggle-born witch and a pure-blood wizard's love. Lily (he had her eyes, Harry would say) and James (he had his exact appearance, Harry would complete) were very powerful, and they were fiercely against the King. This mentality was what made them start a campaign to bring Grindelwald down in the first place. However, as Hermione had been aware since a little girl, Gellert Grindelwald was invincible.

Harry's parent died in a trap made up with the help of one of their best friends, Peter Pettigrew. Harry was just a baby then, no more than one year old. He was sent to be raised by his godfather, a pureblood named Sirius Black. Sirius taught Harry everything he knew about magic (something that proved to be quite a lot). By age eleven, the boy's dueling skills had reached such a high level that even the King had heard about it. When Grindelwald offered Harry a position in the Army ("I'm doing you a favor, ignoring such low parentage you have.") Harry said a quick 'No, thank you', and left. Two hours later, the skinny boy with bright green eyes was locked up under the Castle grounds, soon to turn into a member of the King's Army.

"Where's Ron, though? I supposed he would be with you." Hermione pointed out after a moment, walking with Harry to the shadow made by one of the high trees nearby.

"He doesn't always have to be with me, you know. When I'm with Ginny, for instance, I can assure you he's not there as well." Harry replied, with a serious face. Hermione felt her cheeks burn as she blushed fiercely.

"Harry James Potter! You can't say those things to me just because I'm your friend. Please, be respectful." She said, with her hands on her waist. Harry burst out laughing, doubling over with the amount of laughter.

"Oh, Hermione, you just sounded like Molly, for God's sakes. Identical!" He said between laughters. He could not stop, not even when Hermione stabbed him in the shoulder, something that made him almost fall to the ground. However, soon the girl's smiled widened and she accompanied her dear friend in the laugh.

* * *

Couldn't a man have a little bit of peace? Tom wondered, as he sat by a great dark granite table at the Malfoy's manor for lunch. He had tried to escape from the dreadful event, but Abraxas, his best friend, simply wouldn't allow it. 'You owe me, Tom. You know I can't stand them all alone.' And Tom gave in, as always, for he did indeed owe Abraxas. It was thanks to the Malfoy's connection that Tom managed to enter the Castle in the first place. And, of course, the fact that Abraxas helped him to hide his little secret just added to the pile of things he would have to make up to his friend.

"Would you hand me the wine, Lord Riddle? Yes, thank you." It was Narcissa Malfoy's voice, at his right. It seemed to Tom that the whole pure-blood population had showed up for the occasion. He did know Abraxas had an extended family, but this was utterly ridiculous.

In the large circular room, illuminated by the gold light that entered through the giant window, one could barely move. There were Blacks who had married Malfoys, and Malfoys who had married Greengrasses, and Greengrasses who had married Flints, and even some Weasleys were there. Tom had stopped counting how many Malfoys he had met after that Draco boy. Seriously, who in their right mind would name their child Draco?

"Excuse me, excuse me." said a high voice at the end of the table, tapping gently on a goblet with a tiny spoon, making a very annoying noise. "I would like the attention of all of you. My son, Abraxas, is going to sign The Parchment tonight, as much as our lovely guest, Delphine. This toast is to celebrate their union, and this feast is just a shadow of what will come tonight after the signatures. Please, enjoy your time!" Abraxas's father, Armand Malfoy, ended the speech graciously putting his goblet forward, and everyone followed his moves. Tom exchanged a glance with his friend, who looked so nervous Tom had to pretend to be drinking from his glass in order not to openly smile.

The Parchment signature, as it was called, was a very unique and important moment in a man's life. Or, more specifically, in a pure-blooded man's life, since they were the only ones who did this kind of event. Once Abraxas signed the magical parchment saying he accepted to marry Delphine Rosier, he would never be able to break out of it, or else he would face an instant and painful death. What a very odd way of starting a relationship, even to Tom's likes.

After the lunch, he had intended to leave the place unnoticed, but his intentions had been ruined at the approach of Abraxas and his soon-to-be wife, Delphine. She was a petite girl, with a brownish hair that went just above her shoulders, and piercing blue eyes, completed with impossible long cilia. Next to her was Abraxas, tall with blond hair that contrasted against his partner's. The skirt of her long, red, full dress brushed against his friend's legs as they walked in his direction.

"I suppose you are the famous Lord Riddle?" The girl asked, with a pretty accent, a glass of champagne hanging loosely in her hand.

"I can't say about the famous, my lady, however I am indeed Lord Riddle. Tom, if you may." He answered, giving her his best smile. She laughed good naturedly, watching him with shining eyes.

"Yes, Tom. I'm Lady Rosier, but you must call me Delphine." Was it only him, or was his friend's fiancée smiling too brightly? It was as if she was flirting with him, an interesting notion, to say the least. Tom looked to Abraxas, who remained silent and contained, the slightest hint of a smile playing in the corners of his mouth.

"As you wish, Delphine. Enjoying the England weather, I hope?" Tom turned his gaze back to the young lady in front of him. Delphine threw her head back and laughed quite loud, her tiny hand finding Tom's arm.

"Oh, no, it's terrible! Not today, particularly, but these past weeks the weather has been awful. I now understand why you Brits are always so cold. It's to go well with the weather!" She said it in such a light tone that one could hardly take it to heart. Tom chuckled, and noticed that her hand was still touching him. Why did people have this urge to touch him, for God's sakes?

"I see your point, Delphine." Tom gently took a step back, and the girl's hand fell from his arm. He turned to face Abraxas completely. "May I talk to you, dear friend? It's something rather important…" He said vaguely, shaking his hand in the general direction of the front door, excusing himself from his friend's fiancée with a sad expression. When Tom and Abraxas finally reached the outside, where no one stood, he looked to his friend almost angrily.

"What was that all about, Malfoy?" He inquired, stopping by the end of the staircase and crossing his arms while he faced the other, a frown between his eyebrows.

"I must apologize in Delphine's behalf. She likes to flirt with anything that has a heart and is able to speak. You know the French." He said rolling his eyes, as if it answered the question. Tom sighed heavily, and rubbed his face.

"I understand." He complied, even though he didn't understand. "However, you must tell her to stop. For both of your sakes. She's going to be a Malfoy, she can't just act like that. Besides, if Bellatrix sees Delphine doing that..." Tom didn't end, and there was no reason for him to. Abraxas knew what would occur then.

"It won't happen again, I promise, Tom." He said, for the first time losing his calm façade, anxiously passing his hand through his hair.

"Good, that's what I expect." He said, eyeing Abraxas carefully. "And now, matters of a more important nature." He started, his head turning around, looking for someone who could be walking among the trees and able to listen to what he was about to say. Luckily, there was no one. "I need you to do a little research for me, would you? It's about Hermione Granger, the Castle's mudblood." He said even before Abraxas could agree. It was pointless, after all. Malfoy always did as ordered.

"Yes, of course. Anything particular you wish to know?" His friend answered, straightening his back and putting both his hands behind his head. Tom thought briefly, staring at the ceiling above them. Was that a painting of an angel trespassing a demon with a sword?

"No, nothing in particular. Just gather as much information as you can." Tom allowed his eyes to fall back to Abraxas, who now had tilted his head to the side.

"And may I ask you the reason to such sudden interest?" Tom knew the question would come.

"No, you may not." He answered simply, a smirk opening on his face as he turned his back on Abraxas and left the place. Why was it so hot outside?

* * *

Well, that was quicker than the last time, I hope. As usual, I'd like to thanks Maddie for her wonderful job. You're awesome! Also, really really thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited and followed the story, it means a lot to me, and it makes me keep writing :3

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Don't forget to review!


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